Joker: The Origin
by HungryChick3n
Summary: In this story I set out to tell the origin of one of batman's and indeed DC's most iconic villains. There is no set in stone origin of the Joker, so I have wrote this by piecing together stories from all the batman variations into one which I think could just be the real story. I will reveal now that Batman shall not make an appearance until the last chapter!


**Daddy's Special Little Boy**

* * *

The old suburban streets of Gotham City's ghetto apartments, that is where we start the tale of one sons hatred for his father. Yes the backstreets, not ten miles away from the lonesome alley where Bruce Wayne's parents will be gunned down in 8 years time. I could tell you the story of Bruce's childhood, the silver spoon tale of the life before his rich parents are gunned down by someone more unfortunate. Or I could tell you the tale of another eight year old boy who was dealing with his own hardships while Bruce is 15 miles away being born in Gotham General Hospital.

Where to begin? Maybe we will start with his mother, the blushing bride she was both a new mom and a new wife when she had him (maybe the fact that she was the mother of the lazy bastard's son was the reason for their marriage too).

But I digress, fast forward five years then baby is now a boy, with no idea of the worlds cruelty.

He shall soon figure out that life isn't always so pretty in about one hour in fact. When a cop shall come to the front door of their suburban house to tell his father and him that his mother has been gunned down on her way out of work, for the pearl wedding present she wore so proudly around the workplace.

I guess you can't really blame his father for wanting to end the pain with a little (well maybe it was quite lot of) liquor, booze and wine.

That my friends is the setting in which we set our story.

"HEY! Don't you run away from me you little shit!"

...who could blame him...

"You think locking the door will stop me from knocking you silly, you pathetic moron!?"

...for wanting to end the pain...

"HA! Hiding in the closet!? GET OUT OF THERE! RIGHT NOW!"

...with a little...

*WHACK!*

...liquor...

"Don't you dare cry!"

...booze...

"One more tear and I swear to god I will break your nose!"

...and wine...

*WHACK!*

The beaten and bloody boy awakes on the wooden floor of his bedroom, splinters in his black eye and bleeding nose. What more can he do but just go to bed? Report him I hear you say? Please, understand this boy has not seen the inside of a school since the death of his dear old mother, he never learned how to report it. Besides all he has known is this so called "family" how could a boy growing up in that life think in his wildness of nightmares that anywhere else would be better.

But please, do not let my melancholy writing techniques deceive you into thinking his childhood was all doom and gloom. There was happy times, one in particular stands out. The day at the circus, his dad had become a born again christian and was content with giving up the bottle and making it up to his son for all his bad deeds and as luck would have it "Haley's circus" was in town.

They spent the entire day as it seemed just laughing at clowns, looking at foreign animals with complete awe (animals such as elephants and even lions) then to finish the day they saw the young Jonathan Greyson the great acrobat preforming stunts without the aid of a safety net! (Oddly enough this would be the night he would meet the love of his life who would later become Mary Greyson). After a day of laughter, fun and circus fast food they ended the day by heading towards the exit gates, but not before being stopped by a clown on the way out who presided to act out a scene of Shakespeare then dropping his pantaloons, may not seem so funny as I write this but at the time it was the piece of comedy needed to finally bridge the gap between the father and son that had been getting wider and wider ever since his mother was shot.

2 weeks later and the father has been missing for 3 days, leaving the boy to survive on what microwavable meals were left in the fridge. One night his father came back home instead of explaining his absence he just sat down and watched television.

The young boy thought he would grasp the opportunity to have a few more laughs with his old man.

He ran upstairs went into his dad's drawers and took out a pair of his grey slacks. He then ran down stairs went up to his dad and said:  
"Hey dad! Look at me!"

He then proceeded to drop the slacks just as the clown did at the circus. The boy was in tears with laughter at his own joke, it was only when he opened his eyes when he saw his dad's fist come flying towards his face. Turns out in the free days he was gone his dad had once again taken up the bottle.

This was his childhood, in the next chapter we shall talk about his teenage years.


End file.
